


My Love Remains

by AndWeMutate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndWeMutate/pseuds/AndWeMutate
Summary: "This was what they selfishly desired. Not just one of them. Both of them. Eagerly, longingly, they two wanted one another. Even if it seemed impossible to capture those moments from their past, they were intent on trying."Tony and Steve lose each other. They find their way back to each other. They lose each other again.





	My Love Remains

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing sad thiiiiiings. I don't know why but when I write things that are sad around times when I'm feeling sad, it's almost...therapeutic? I'm not sure but Tony angst, especially after Infinity War, is one of my favorite things.

They were going to try again. They were going to _try_ to try again. What they had was worth something, they both admitted, as if it was something that had been difficult to come to terms with. Beyond the battles and the adverted glances, the regret and the longing, there was something there, something worth saving. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers struggled to keep their distance, yet they always found their way back to one another, albeit clumsily at times. They hadn’t planned to be this toxic to one another. It wasn’t what they wanted. They hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but it had spiraled out of control so quickly and before they had realized it, what love had remained had soured and turned into a resentment that was hard to manage and impossible to escape. What they wanted didn’t much matter anymore. 

However, they seemed determined now to change that. They wanted to believe that their love, what was left of it, was well worth the struggles. They both wanted so desperately to return to what they once had. Both men wanted those warm feelings to crash over them once again, tangled limbs and whispered promises of more of the same. Tony wanted to crawl into bed beside Steve and Steve wanted to gather Tony into his arms and take in the familiarity of Tony’s body beside him. This was what they selfishly desired. Not just one of them. Both of them. Eagerly, longingly, they two wanted one another. Even if it seemed impossible to capture those moments from their past, they were intent on trying. 

They made love the first night, after Steve had suggested taking it slow. It was a flurry of clothing and limbs, feverish kisses consisting of mostly teeth and tongue. Words were a struggle at times, having to relive moments neither of them were proud of. Perhaps actions were better suited for the duo of heroes. They lost themselves for hours, entwined in expensive sheets and a sense of desperation. While apart, their edges were jagged and struggled to fit somewhere. Together, when words were softer and the lights were dim, they fit together effortlessly. They fit together now as they had then and there was a sense of relief in that. It was a quiet relief. Perhaps they hadn’t missed their chance. They could still figure this out.

Things progressed over a matter of weeks. They opened up a dialogue, spoke honestly with one another. It was a slow process, but they didn’t mind slow. Tony found himself enjoying the slower moments. He found himself falling in love with Steve Rogers all over again. It came in waves. It could be a simple glance, a coy smile or even just the sight of Steve asleep in his, their, bed. Whatever caught Tony’s eyes, he took it and he did so slowly, methodically. He refused to lose this again. He’d commit all of this to memory and he’d never be without it again. 

They’d both struggled over their time apart and even now, things were not easy. Steve struggled with guilt. Tony struggled with everything else. Even if some of the bitter memories were tied to one another, the knot tight and steadfast, they found solace in one another. Neither of them were alone, even if it felt like that at times. There were moments where they took their grief out on one another. They argued. They yelled. They became a hurricane of misplaced words and hurt feelings. They reconciled in the quiet moments between, but they often returned to destructive behaviors. Tony drank. Steve overthought and harbored doubt. They ached and introduced such misery into their lives, yet they always found one another in that fundamental darkness. They reached out and felt their way around, but somehow, they found each other. 

Another fight like many before them erupted. Before things could escalate, Tony suggested they get dinner. Steve’s expression softened and he relented. Tony promised that after dinner, if Steve felt so inclined, they could continue their argument and the soldier couldn’t help but chuckle. Depending on how he felt, he may need to take Tony up on that. They left the compound and ended up in the city. It was loud, brightly lit and a distraction that was needed, it seemed. The billionaire idly commented about pizza being the one thing he knew of that could stop an argument in its tracks, no matter how heated it may be. He hadn’t missed Steve’s cocked eyebrow and insisted he knew what he was talking about. 

They crossed the busy street side by side. Tony was in the middle of saying something witty, one would assume, when a shot rang through the immediate area. Suddenly, Steve wasn’t by his side anymore. Instead, he crumbled to the asphalt beneath him. Time slowed. Things began to blur. Tony couldn’t make sense of what was happening before him. His chest felt tight and his head felt like it was going to explode. He heard yelling, though the words were hard to make out. He heard his heart pounding in his ears and watched as unsteady hands moved to Steve’s chest. Like ink in water, blood bloomed from the soldier’s chest and traveled throughout the fabric of the shirt he wore. 

Tony was babbling. The words that poured from his mouth were fragmented and made very little sense. He pressed his hand over the wound as he shouted for someone, anyone, to call an ambulance. Insead, people flocked to them and took out their phones. He felt such an intense anger growing within him, but his expression immediately softened when Steve lifted a trembling hand and placed it over Tony’s. He told the billionaire that he loved him and Tony looked almost angry about it. No, he wasn’t allowed to do that. He wasn’t allowed to make it seem like that was the last time he’d ever say that. He wouldn’t dare. That wouldn’t be the last time. There would be hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of times after this. They had all of the time in the world now, didn’t they?

That was the last time Steve Rogers told Tony Stark that he loved him. 

He later found out that the bullet came from someone swearing allegiance to HYDRA. Tony had no idea what happened to him and while an angry, vengeful part of him was more than willing to put a bullet in him, he couldn’t muster up the energy to hate. He mourned. God, did he mourn. Burying Steve Rogers was something Tony had never expected to do. He’d already buried his parents. What more could he stand to lose? How much more could be taken away before he was allowed to have something he could unapologetically keep? 

He fell apart over the course of weeks. There were times when he’d forget Steve was dead. He’d swear he’d hear him wandering the halls or he’d hear him in the kitchen. These idle details began to hurt more and more as they continued to plague him. Tony would hear Steve’s voice calling his name in the shower, in the workshop, in his sleep. He’d always say something softly, warmly, and the billionaire was reduced to rubble whenever he heard the illusion of the soldier. 

Whenever he drank, which he did in excess, he could sense the disappoint looming over him. Didn’t matter, though. Did it really? Steve was dead. He died. Who gave a shit if Tony Stark drank himself stupid? Who cared? Tony sure as hell didn’t. He’d happily drown himself in that delightful burning and he’d remember nothing and he’d wish for something more than this. He’d long for something to reunite him and Steve. He would remember what happiness, what joy, what love felt like when they were together again.

Tony would often, when the night became too quiet and the taste of liquor no longer enticed him, wander down to his workshop and look around at the things he had made, the things he was struggling to make. His hands would tremble as dark eyes followed the delicate curvature of the room. Eyes widened and suddenly, his heart ached. A prototype, haphazardly laying on his workbench, of something for Steve. His mind, clouded with a sense of helplessness and unease, couldn’t decipher what it had been, what it was meant to be, but the coloring of it, the shape of it, was undoubtedly created for Steve.

For a long time, Tony just stared at the thing. Thoughts were absent. He couldn’t consider completion or mull over improvements. Rational thoughts did not come. Instead, in a series of fluid movements, he crossed the room and shoved the object, as well as everything else on the workbench, off, ignoring all of it as it violently collided with the ground. The sound of various pieces of metal, all different sizes and weights, made Tony’s head spin, but that did not stop him. He continued his warpath through the workshop, pushing and shoving anything that dared come into contact with him. The room was filled with the brutal, vicious sounds of brazen destruction.

The only sound to cut through all of that was the guttural sobbing of a man who had had enough.

Tony had pressed his back against the wall on the far end of the workshop, sliding down and staying there for a long, long while. Time passed in such an odd way now, some moments endless while others barely even existed. For the first time since Steve’s death, Tony allowed himself the luxury of crying. In his head, he had tried to rationalize things according to how Steve would. He had to be the strong one now, right? The one who showed no weakness, the one who clenched his jaw and tightened his shoulders. As the tears, hot and never-ending, streamed down Tony’s face, he considered his weakness and the want to simply stop feeling and he knew that Steve wouldn’t approve of this. As a matter of fact, Steve would hate how hollow Tony had became. He’d scold him, tell him he had to move past this, had to stand up and stop drinking and become the Tony Stark who Steve had loved without end. 

The billionaire, gutted and empty, remained there for what felt like hours. He considered Steve’s advice, the voice in his head gentle and warm. The wounds were still too fresh and the thought of moving on without Steve was salt rubbed viciously into them. He’d already done his time, lived his life without Steve, so why was he being forced to do it again? Not even the Steve in his head could answer those questions. Instead, he existed as a series of blurs, memories Tony clung to, in the very back of his head. He was a chain of things Tony remembered him saying, a sequence of memories he struggled to hang onto. 

While the masses remembered a certain image of Steve Rogers, Tony was now very, very aware that this version of Steve, this being made entirely of warmth and love and failed attempts at flirting and sleepy smiles in the morning light, existed only within Tony. Once he was gone, where would those memories go? Would they vanish completely? Would they die suddenly and unquestionably with Tony? 

In the still of the moment, Tony had decided that, no matter how hollow he felt, how losing Steve had felt like losing a piece of himself, he had to live. He had to live if only to keep those beautiful memories of Steve Rogers alive. If all that remained of him was sadness and love, that would have to be enough.

It was not a small task, but Tony dedicated himself to it. His head heavy, memories sloshing about inside, he rose to his feet. Leaning his shoulder against the wall for support, his eyes followed his path of destruction and with a heavy sigh, he forced his body away from the wall and he began to pick it all up, piece by piece.

**Author's Note:**

> Another unbeta'd work, so apologies for any glaring errors.


End file.
